


Five

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Category: NSYNC
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-13
Updated: 2004-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris shrugs. "He's JC. Who the fuck knows how his mind works? I make the mistake of reminding him No Doubt went to Jamaica to record <i>Rock Steady</i>, and here we are, stuck in the middle of fucking South Carolina."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sandy for the most excellent beta, and to C, who once again read it when I was in the "this all sucks" stage and didn't hate it.

Justin opens his eyes just a little against the glare of the rising sun and stares at the unfamiliar room. It's small, barely big enough for the bed and a wicker dresser, worn and shabby with ancient-looking linoleum on the floor, but the sheets under him are silky cotton, and he recognizes the Pratesi border. Even if he really can't remember why he's here, he knows somehow that he's supposed to be, and at least the floor looks clean. He rolls over to get the sun out of his eyes and goes back to sleep.

When he wakes up again, it's still bright, but the sun isn't directly in his eyes. He remembers traveling endlessly with the final flight from Atlanta being a turbo-prop that vibrated so hard he couldn't make his bones stop shaking even after he stumbled down the steps and across the runway, clutching his guitar tightly and more than pathetically grateful to see Chris.

He rolls out of bed and wanders down the hall to find a bathroom. The tiny sink is crowded with shaving kits, Chris and Joey's, he thinks as he shoves them over to make room for his own and digs through it to find a toothbrush.

Downstairs, it's one big room. The kitchen part of it looks like something Justin's grandma might have learned to cook in. Joey's at the stove, flipping eggs and bitching up a storm about the "fucking museum pieces" that are passing for appliances but stops long enough to hug Justin and tell him he looks like the walking dead. Justin has been hearing that on an endless loop on the phone every day from Chris so he just grunts and heads toward the other end of the house.

What looks like a brand new, top of the line Korg keyboard/recording studio takes up half of what would be the dining table, and Justin stops to look it over appreciatively. It's pink, which pretty much guarantees it belongs to JC. Justin figures he got it comped or borrowed it from somebody because he knows how much one of those babies costs and there's no way JC Chasez paid that much for a keyboard. But it _is_ sweet.

Joey shouts that he could use some help and Lance pops out of a door next to the steps, obscenely energetic, and looking pretty damn happy. He punches Justin lightly on the shoulder and eyes him critically but at least he doesn't tell him he looks like shit before he joins Joey in the kitchen.

Chris is on the screened porch, drinking coffee and watching the ocean. Justin steals a gulp and squints in the same direction. The porch is weathered gray wood and the screens are definitely on their last legs. The screen door doesn't quite close and squeaks quietly every time the wind moves it; the walkway to the beach staggers drunkenly over the dunes. If he looks hard, he can see a tiny JC out past the breakers.

"Dude, what the _fuck_ is this place?

Chris waves his coffee cup toward JC. "His idea, man. You were busy but you signed off on it, too. We let the Spaz play Julie McCoy and book everything." JC is trying to bodysurf but he hasn't quite got the rhythm yet. Justin's exhausted just watching him try. Chris shakes his head. "You know C. He's all excited about the feel of this place. Something about the old guy who owned it before he died and all that. Plus, he was like over the moon about the state park that starts about fifty feet that way." Chris points northward, and Justin obediently notices the emptiness of the beach. "Says it's almost like having a private beach."

Justin sighs. "He does know that we could buy our own damn beach, right?"

Chris shrugs. "He's JC. Who the fuck knows how his mind works? I make the mistake of reminding him No Doubt went to Jamaica to record _Rock Steady_, and here we are, stuck in the middle of fucking South Carolina. And Bass is pretty but he's no Gwen Stefani."

Then Joey's shouting that breakfast is ready, to tell JC that if he doesn't get his skinny ass out of the ocean now, Joey's gonna feed his scrambled eggs to the sea gulls, and Day One of JC's plan begins.

***

During the final crazed weeks of the tour, after the stage collapse, Justin had been in constant motion, but Chris was always in touch and had relayed JC's idea to hole up and write the next album before anyone expected them to be starting. JC thought it would be good to vibe together without interference. Lance had left messages with location and timing, including packing suggestions from JC, and had been rolling his eyes so hard Justin had practically heard it, but looking at the scene in the old beach house now, JC had been right, Justin thinks. It's like recording during the lawsuit, when nobody would touch them and they could do whatever they wanted, but without the never-ending anxiety and the daily threats from TransCon.

Justin's got his notebook and guitar out, and he and JC are throwing song ideas around. Chris has got some stuff that Justin is dying to put harmonies to, and Lance and Joey are keeping everything straight. Lance has gone all geek-boy and figured out how to install a CD-burner into JC's electronic recording studio so they're recording anything that they think might sound good and he and Joey are cutting loose on some of the more polished stuff.

Justin feels the energy bounce from voice to voice and knows that it's just the beginning and can't help tackling Chris just from the happiness of feeling it all work again. Then Joey is on top of Justin and Chris is pulling JC down onto the floor, ignoring the squawking about the new keyboard and Lance is sitting at the table laughing at all of them, and it's really really right.

Dinner that night is spaghetti and Phyllis' marinara. Justin helps Joey in the kitchen, sautéing garlic in butter and olive oil and pouring it over slices of thick bread before watching them carefully under the broiler. At the table, Lance bitches about how much butter Justin used but he shuts up when JC licks the excess off his fingers. Justin knows the last couple weeks of the tour were flat-out insane, but he doesn't think he could have missed a re-coupling announcement. Joey and Chris are acting like it's normal so Justin tries to keep an intelligent look on his face but he's pretty sure nobody mentioned it.

Justin plays around with his guitar while JC and Chris clean up but puts it on the floor when JC sits down on the ratty old couch and bumps shoulders with him.

"Didn't want to tell it to your voicemail, man." JC smiles. "And you've been pretty impossible to track down lately."

There's a peace in JC's eyes that Justin hasn't seen for a long long time, and there's not really much else he needs to know. "You're good?"

"Yeah. Maybe a little scared, but it's feeling right."

Joey's got a deck of cards, and Chris is dealing some insanely complicated hand of poker. There's a song in Justin's head that's been there for a long time but he can't quite make it out. It teases him with hints of the bridge but the harder he tries to hear it, the quieter it gets. He lets Chris play his hand and falls asleep with his head on JC's shoulder long before midnight.

***

Days Two, Three and Four go pretty much the same way as Day One, except Justin wakes up on Day Two feeling a little bad that he'd slept on JC, and makes an effort to crash more on Joey. He also becomes Joey's assistant in the kitchen because Joey says Lance doesn't understand the fine art of manly cooking which Lance translates as "I don't do grease." Joey yells "oh, kitchen boy" whenever he starts throwing together something to keep them from starving, which Justin hates, but other than that, he doesn't mind hanging out with Joey.

In between making pancakes for breakfast or making a run to the tiny cinderblock barbecue shack to pick up lunch, Justin gets the gossip on every single person they know in California and Florida, plus daily updates on Bri and the wedding plans and the latest additions to the water park Joey calls a backyard. Naturally enough, Joey has a bazillion off-color comments about the tabloids' version of Justin's life, but Justin thinks that he'd hate it if Joey weren't needling him about his sex life.

He also gets the scoop on JC and Lance which turns out to be not much information at all, just that it's very new and that everybody's playing it cool, not making any waves about it. While he and Chris are waking up over Joey's really lousy coffee, Justin asks careful questions but it takes three mornings before Chris admits that he doesn't know whether to be happy for them or not.

Justin kind of agrees. When they're good, they're very very good, and when they're bad, well, it's not that there's drama, but watching two of your closest friends walk around with eyes so full of pain you can't believe they're not dead is a fucking nightmare. He hopes they're not just setting themselves up for another fall because he's not sure any of them have recovered from the last break-up.

Every day, Justin hears bits of songs that he can't quite put down on paper, but at least he's feeling as though they're starting to really find a working rhythm for this album. He's still not sure what it is, but there's definitely something there.

By Day Four, they've gone through most of the songs they've stockpiled. JC has a vibe working with Chris and is in that slightly crazy place that he always gets when he's writing. The only thing that worries Justin is that Chris seems to be there, too, and it's a little nerve-wracking to see Chris like that.

Lance had showed them all a song early on that everyone had liked but agreed that it wasn't quite right. It was on the list to work on, until Joey started singing a downright obscene version of it that wasn't quite on the melody and stuff started falling into place. So Joey and Lance are in the kitchen, Joey patiently, endlessly, singing variations on the same phrase over and over, and Justin doesn't want to mess with their vibe either.

Justin takes his notebook and wanders out to look at the ocean. The song in his head whispers along, just under the sound of the surf and he finally admits that nothing's gonna come to him. Again. Still.

There's a little boy building a sand castle while his mother watches from under an umbrella but other than that the beach is deserted. Justin walks over and helps him add towers and finds a bit of wood for a drawbridge and then races back and forth to the surf with two small buckets to fill up the moat.

The beach is really wide and the tide is low, so he's pretty wiped out by all the running back and forth he's been doing by the time the mom calls his new buddy away. He still doesn't want to bother the other guys so he just balls up a towel for a pillow and lays down in one of the pools left by the ebbing tide. The water is sun-warmed and still around him, and he closes his eyes against the light and listens to the waves hitting the beach. He maybe even dozes off because he feels like he jumps a foot when a sudden spray of cold water hits him in the face.

He opens his eyes to JC standing over him, sleek and wet from the surf, shaking his hair out. The water droplets catch the sun and dazzle Justin's eyes while they rain down on him. He flips JC off but JC just laughs and drops down next to Justin.

"Still don't like the ocean?" JC teases gently.

Justin opens his mouth to tell him to fuck off but hears himself saying, "I haven't written anything in months."

JC just nods thoughtfully, and lays down with him. Justin eyes all the hair nervously and tries not to think about getting sand out of it.

"What you've shown us is good."

"Yeah, but they're all from before Challenge." Justin closes his eyes again. "Right after we went back out on the road, I was at least writing, but it all sucked. Like worse than when I was fifteen and homesick. And then, I. Everything just. stopped. And sometimes I think there's something there, but no matter how hard I try, I can't fucking hear it."

JC's quiet for a long time but Justin knows the signs of him thinking things over so he waits, mostly just glad that he's finally told someone other than Chris. Chris has heard it every night for a month, but there was nobody else Justin would trust to understand.

JC finally says, "When I was a kid, I saw Arlo Guthrie at a state fair my parents took us to. Man, he was totally cool, he talked to me for like a half-hour after his set." JC's lost in his memories again, and Justin's about to ask if there was a point to the reminiscing when he continues, "We talked about song-writing, how it's like the songs are just out there, flowing downstream and you have to be ready grab the ones that float past you, or they'll keep going and catch the next cat who's open to them."

"You catch the one from this morning?"

JC nods happily and Justin winces at the sand being ground into JC's hair. "Chris got it, mostly. I was just along for the ride."

"So, I'm not catching what's out there, is that what you're saying?" Justin has this vague mental picture of Johnny Depp with long gray hair and a beard waving his hands and talking with the really skinny, floppy-haired JC he first met at Disney and it makes his head ache. He starts to say something about overly simplistic metaphors not being a whole lot of help with his present writer's block, but JC rolls up on his side and touches a long finger to Justin's forehead.

"No, dude, I'm saying that you're not in the right place to do the catching." JC taps his finger once to make his point, then shakes his head again and sprays Justin with sandy grit and really, the only thing to do after that is to get him in a headlock and drag him kicking and screaming into the surf.

***

Later that evening, while Justin is showering off the worst of the sand and salt in the soft flow of water from the outdoor shower tucked under the main floor of the house, Chris calls down to him.

"Hey, cover boy, bring your sandy ass up here a minute." Chris' voice is oddly hushed. Justin wraps a towel around his waist and carefully picks his way up the creaking wooden stairs to stand next to Chris on the landing. The clouds and sky are painted an odd soft color, too bluish to be pink, but not quite dark enough for lavender. The ocean is calm, almost flat, just tiny waves, so smooth it's reflecting the sky, and where the sand is wet from the waves, it's bluish-pink, too. Justin has a conch shell that his mom brought back from her honeymoon with his dad and it feels like he's standing inside the pink whorls.

Chris doesn't say anything, just hands Justin a beer. They watch in silence until the light fades and Chris grins and says, "I guess we can scratch the rose-colored glasses off the wish list."

Justin finds clean pair of shorts and a shirt and crashes out on the hammock, thinking back to when he was fourteen and Chris was the coolest fucking guy he'd ever met. Back then, he couldn't have imagined sharing a beer with Chris like he just did, and it's not like he hasn't been getting drunk with Chris for too many years to remember, but even more than a triple-platinum solo album or getting a raunchy nickname from the Brit tabloids or owning houses in multiple states, tonight, one beer suddenly makes him feel like he's an adult.

***

Justin falls asleep in the hammock and bitches out Joey when Joey tries to get him to move, so he sleeps there overnight. It's odd; his body knows it's not quite right, but he's never uncomfortable enough to move. He wakes up for real to the squeak of the screen door and sees Lance silhouetted by the rising sun, stretching before his morning run. For the first time in he can't remember how long, Justin hasn't woken up just as tired as he was when he went to sleep, so he asks Lance if he minds company on his run.

Lance grins and tells Justin that it will be his great pleasure to run Justin into the ground, and to hurry up and find his shoes. Justin flips Lance off behind his back as he goes into the house to dig his running shoes out of the bottom of his bag. Lance is trashtalking the entire time Justin warms up and Justin answers in kind but an hour later, when he's throwing up into the bushes next to the bike path they've been following, Justin can't really do anything but give Lance props for being in kick-ass shape, and whine--even to his own ears, it's a whine--about the foul taste in his mouth.

Lance leaves him propped up against a tree and jogs off, promising to return with water. Justin just leans his head against the tree and amuses himself by trying to count how many times they've all thrown up in front of each other.

Lance is back before Justin even gets through the stomach flu in the middle of the PopOd tour and he's carrying two bottles of water and a super-sized Cool Berry Blast Gatorade. Once Justin gets his mouth rinsed out, the Gatorade slides down his throat like the smoothest of Cristal.

"Thanks, man," Justin waves the bottle at Lance. "The orange stuff would have had me puking again."

"Since you throwing up after every deposition is one of my least favorite memories of the entire lawsuit, it really wasn't all that hard to pick a different color." Lance offers him a hand and pulls him to his feet. "I suppose if I call Joey for a pick-up, you'd be mortally offended and feel the need to prove your machismo for the rest of the day."

Justin just looks at Lance until he rolls his eyes and mutters, "That's what I thought."

Justin half-expects Lance to leave him behind, but Lance just walks along with him.

"Sorry to ruin your workout."

Lance shrugs. "I sprinted to get the water and back."

It takes them nearly fifteen minutes to get to the gas station and Lance smirks at Justin's raised eyebrows. Close to a mile there and back and Lance must have been booking, because he wasn't gone all that long. Justin makes a mental note to start working out again, and yes, he's fucking competitive but in this case it's probably not a bad thing.

***

Six hours later, and puking in the bushes is looking like a highlight of the day. JC's got them all wedged into the bathroom working out harmonies; it's their last day and he's frantic to cram as much in as possible. It doesn't even matter that it's one of Justin's songs; Justin has passed his limit on working on it. The bathroom's hot and stuffy and Justin doesn't think his ass is ever gonna recover from sitting in the bathtub. No matter what they try, it doesn't sound right, and Justin knows it's his fault. The voices are fine; it's the song that's fucked, but JC's having too much fun with the playback and the reverb to really listen to Justin.

Justin's back is killing him and Chris keeps kneeing him accidentally when he tries to stretch. Joey and Lance are leaning against each other, and Lance looks so bored Justin isn't sure if he's actually awake. JC only grunts absently when Justin suggests he work on the song some more before they try to start arranging it, and Justin knows, _knows_, that JC didn't hear a word he said. He waits five minutes then tries again.

"JC."

When JC doesn't even look up, Justin goes for the whine that JC told him to stop using back on the Disney back lot.

"JaaayCeee."

JC still doesn't say anything, but his mouth is tight now. Justin can tell that he's being ignored deliberately, and that fucking pushes him over the edge.

"Joshua!" he shouts, and yes, his first vocal coach would have been very proud of him because that came from the diaphragm and he damn well projected.

He's also got JC's attention; it's just that easy and they're in each other's face. Justin's shouting, JC's snarling and Justin can't believe some of the things he's saying. He's almost happy to hear what JC has to say about him; it evens out the venom spilling out of his own mouth.

With a final hissing "motherfucking annoying _ass_", JC stalks out of the bathroom, opening the door so hard it slams against the wall and bounces back, nearly hitting Lance where he's stepped out of JC's way. By the time Justin works his way around Chris, and Joey, and finally Lance, and out of the bathroom himself, JC's long gone and Justin is free to storm out of the house without interference.

***

Surprisingly, it's Lance who finds him on the beach after a while and hands him a bottle of water. When Justin looks up, he can see Joey jogging along the surf and if he squints hard--which he's _not_\--JC's in the distance.

"How'd you get stuck with me this time?"

Lance takes it as the invitation it was, and drops down next to Justin. "It's not like talking C down after one of y'all's pissing matches is on the top of my list of Things to Do with Joshua When We're Alone." Lance drinks down half his own bottle. "You're a matched set, the self-righteous brothers."

"Yeah, but usually you go sweet-talk C, and Chris comes and annoys the shit out of me, right?"

"Well, Mr. Kirkpatrick is phoning in the official time/date stamp on the fight so we can figure out who won."

"You _bet_ on me and C fighting?"

Lance smirks. "Right, because you and JC telling each other off over a sound board is an unthinkable event. It's a sucker bet, we'd never find any takers that would believe you two could play nice for a week." He waits until Justin is in the middle of swallowing before he says, "We set up an office pool at WEG on when the first fight would happen." Justin chokes a little, and glares at Lance, but Lance just snickers. "Johnny wouldn't let us be in it, he said we'd have too much influence over events, but Joe and Chris and I had our own little side bet going."

Justin sighs. "Seriously, dude. Why aren't you up the beach with C?"

He really only expects another smart-ass answer, but instead, Lance says soft and low, "Because, Joey is about a thousand times better at getting him to let go of shit than I am and. We're trying to not repeat every single stupid thing we did to each other before."

Justin leans back on his elbows and watches the waves crash onto the sand. "That's hard, man." Lance grunts. "Good luck with it."

"Thanks." Lance looks down at the sand and then says in a rush, "And if I go up there, it's like him and me, and then you three, and I hate that, and I'm pretty sure the rest of y'all do, too.

Justin doesn't know what to say, but Lance doesn't seem to want an answer. He stands up and brushes the sand off his bathing suit. "You fixed?"

Justin laughs a little. "Wow, don't let anyone tell you aren't good at sweet-talking."

Lance shrugs. "He's stressed about his album, you're like a walking zombie, the two of you fight like brothers. What's to sweet-talk? Go fix the song with him. It's what you both want to do."

Lance offers Justin a hand up, and then leaves as soon as Joey and JC get close. Joey pushes JC in Justin's general direction and they're left to work it out. But that's ok, because they've been doing this for half of Justin's life and no matter how much Justin might hate to admit that he's been wrong to others, it's never been hard to apologize to JC, and Justin is happy to find out that that hasn't changed at all.

***

When Justin and JC finally make their way back up to the house, Chris launches himself noisily in their general direction. JC sidesteps him with the ease of long practice and lets him tackle Justin.

"Everything's all shiny in Mouseketeerland again!" Chris yells as he tries to twist Justin's arm up behind his back.

Joey announces that he isn't cooking for their ungrateful asses this evening. Justin takes that to mean that Joey didn't win the side bet. Chris lets go of Justin and threatens JC's life when he offers to make something. Justin's just tired again, but Lance--of course--has the name of the best restaurant in the area and is on the phone trying to make reservations before Chris even gets to the end of his dramatic recitation of JC's kitchen disasters.

Lance swears this place comes highly recommended. Justin isn't really holding out much hope though, especially after Lance mentions that it's in a converted gas station, but there's nothing to do but shower and climb into the Suburban. Lance drives, with JC riding shotgun, and Justin, Chris and Joey do their best to be the children in the happy dysfunctional family. They manage to reduce JC to feral snarls before Lance can even get off the shell roads and onto the paved highway, but since JC's already in a pissy mood, Chris declares that this will not count for any record keeping purposes. Joey immediately objects on the grounds that JC being in a pissy mood would negate all events from 2000. Justin just prays they can maybe get a decent burger at this place and get back to their ramshackle temporary home without winding up in any tabloids.

The restaurant is right where Lance's directions say it will be. It's a low cinderblock building, painted bright pink--to ward off the evil spirits, Lance says--surrounded by huge live oaks, and they're not two steps inside the place and Justin knows Lance has pulled it off again.

The hostess eyes JC's scruffy beard and wild hair, but before she can say anything, Lance has turned on the attitude, the one that says, "Don't even think about dissing him." Justin catches Chris' eye and very carefully doesn't smile at how quickly she backs down.

The dining room isn't big, but the lights are low, and it's full of fantastic smells. They get a table in a corner, but it's one of those places with an open kitchen, and before they can order their drinks, JC is draped over the counter, watching the chefs and smiling happily.

The menu is hand-written, clearly whatever they can get fresh, and Justin doesn't see anything he wouldn't be happy to eat. He looks up when Lance laughs.

"I think we've been eating Joey's cooking too long; I want one of everything."

Before Justin can agree, JC giggles at the chef he's been talking to, and Lance grins at the sound. Chris says, "That used to bug the shit out of you."

"Yeah," Lance agrees but then JC's back at the table, carefully carrying a small white plate, and Lance stops to taste the shrimp JC's brought him. They're in public, they're both behaving casually on the surface, but Justin feels lucky that they manage to notice the rest of them long enough to shove the plate at them.

"Don't order," JC says. "Robert is going to set us up, ok?" He slips back to the counter, and Justin hears him ask about wines.

"I, ah, guess we're just going to hope that Robert is the chef and not the dishwasher," Joey says.

"And that he can tear his eyes away from C long enough to cook."

"Ok, there's no way _that_ would have ever come out of your mouth back in the day." Chris leans over and pokes Lance. Justin is glad that the radio silence has been broken, and not at all surprised that Chris was the one to do it. "Speak to us, Bass."

Lance watches JC disappear into the wine cellar with the chef and the suddenly attentive hostess and shrugs. "Nothing all that dramatic. I just finally saw what cheating looks like, and that's not it."

Justin agrees wholeheartedly, but he also notices that no matter how much outside attention he's getting, JC is almost in orbit around Lance, gravitating back to the table easily and often, and that's not something that used to happen either so maybe JC finally bought a seat on the clue bus, too.

***

JC brings home a double armful of wine, and is persuaded to let them drink it as long as they save the labels so he knows what to buy later. Joey's agreeable to giving out back rubs, and between Joey's magic hands and all the food he ate and the wine JC keeps filling his glass with, Justin's more relaxed than he can remember being in a long time. Joey's working over Lance on the floor, with Chris riding on his back, waiting his turn; JC is stretched out on the couch with his head in Justin's lap, and Justin's not entirely sure he has feet anymore. He can't really feel them, but he's too comfortable to move, and he's pretty sure somebody would have told him if his legs just ended.

Lance moans as Joey does something particularly good. JC wriggles a little and whispers, very seriously, "mmmm, yeah, that's my Southern Comfort." He butts his head against Justin's hand until Justin takes the hint and starts to pet his hair. JC hums softly and watches Lance. "Don't I have a pretty blonde?" Justin laughs and nods, and JC rewards him with a big smile. "You have a pretty, pretty blonde, too. But I'll bet she doesn't sound like that when she's happy."

JC looks so sad for Justin that Justin can't help reassuring him. "That's ok, she's, um, she's got great legs."

JC says, "Yeah. That's good." He watches Lance a little more. "Not to be all up in your face, but my blonde has a better ass than yours."

Justin's laughing so hard he can barely speak. "Mine shakes hers better."

"Ooooh, yeah, I've seen her, she does." JC thinks for a minute, then flaps his arms around until his sleeves fall back and Justin can see the faint bruises around his wrists. "But mine's kinkier," he says with a deep satisfaction.

Justin groans, "Dude. Seriously, I did not need to hear that."

Chris laughs at him from the floor. "Please, I've _seen_ your porn collection. Hell, I bought you the first half when you were underage."

Justin kicks at Chris and mutters, "Ass. That's different."

JC's looking at Justin with a puzzled frown.

"C." Justin shakes his head helplessly. "I love you, and I love Lance, but it's, like thinking about your parents and sex. Or--or, Joey and Kel."

"And here is where I assure all of you, my closest friends, that like my father before me, I am a tiger in the sack, and that my bride-to-be will swear to that," Joey says, and Chris starts searching for his cell phone because he says he wants to hear that from Kelly herself.

Justin ignores them and tries to finish his thought. "It's just. Man, I could have lived my entire life without knowing that about you two."

"Not me; I want details," says Chris. "Dirt. Specifics. Diagrams would be nice, or pictures if you have--"

Lance lifts his head up. "Down, boy."

"--or yeah, video. Joe, where's your camera? We could set it up in the corner--"

Lance says, "God, do something about him."

"You owe me, Bass," Joey laughs and slaps his ass before turning to Chris.

"If you can shut up long enough, it's your turn, Kirkpatrick."

Chris claps his hand over his mouth and throws himself on the floor.

Lance sighs, "Thank you."

JC reaches up to touch Justin's face. "Sorry," he says solemnly.

"'sok, man. I'm cool. I'm, uh, glad you two are, y'know, having fun. I'm just...really going to forget about what you said. Otherwise, I'm gonna be eating dinner with you and your mom one day, and that's all I'm gonna be able to think about."

Lance crawls over and leans against the couch. JC says, "Hey, baby" and plays with his hair, but doesn't move from Justin's lap, so Justin falls asleep to JC's murmurs and Lance's answers and Chris' breathless 'mmm, yeah, right there" and Joey's soft laughter.

***

The airport is small and it's off-season, so it's not very crowded. Joey's flight is the first to leave, but Chris' isn't too much later, and then the rest of them are all together. JC hates saying good-bye, and covers it by fussing at Lance to make sure that everyone has copies of everything they've done over the last few days, ignoring Lance and Joey trying to work out their schedules because Joey says Bri needs a visit from her Uncle Lance. Finally, Lance just shoves JC at Chris with a look that promises untold favors if someone will just deal with JC for ten minutes.

Justin doubts there's a Starbucks, but there has to be someplace to get coffee or something. He grabs one arm and Chris takes the other, and they drag JC down the terminal. Justin hopes no one recognizes them because he's got a hangover that really isn't conducive to anything but being in bed, JC isn't all that happy with any of them, and Chris is, well, Chris, and is having entirely too much fun needling the both of them.

To Justin's complete annoyance, JC won't let him get coffee--"dude, we're all dehydrated from last night, and the flight's just gonna make it worse"--but gives in when Justin drains a bottle of water and threatens to cut his hair as soon as he falls asleep on the plane.

They get back to the departure area right as Joey needs to leave so JC doesn't have time to get too spazzed about saying good-bye. When his flight is called, Chris kisses JC and Lance with great fanfare, and smacks Justin on the back of his head. "Fucker. Do not forget the time difference between the Sunshine and Aloha states and end up calling me in the middle of the night like you did every damn day you spent on the West coast."

Justin slaps back, but his head feels like it might explode, and his aim is off so Chris dodges him easily and flips him off as he walks up the ramp. Justin leans against JC until it's time for their flight to Atlanta. This time it's smooth enough that he can sleep for the short time they're in the air and he feels almost human by the time they land.

JC and Lance are flying on to LA but Justin's managed to get a direct flight to Honolulu, so they say their good-byes in the VIP lounge. Justin gives Lance the number of the real estate agent he worked with and promises to call when he gets back to California.

JC hugs him and hands him his guitar and walks with him to the door. "You in the right place now?"

Justin thinks for a minute, and the song in his head still isn't clear, but it's there, he can feel it. "Yeah. I think I was there all along and just didn't know it."

JC's smile feels like home, and Justin's still carrying that feeling with him when he faxes JC the song five days later and goes out to surf some more.


End file.
